Death Wish
by polarbear815
Summary: Post 2x11. Stiles is kidnapped by Gerard. A look in Stiles' mind while this is going on. Derek saves the day of course. One-Shot.


**POST 2x11! HOLY SHIT BALLS I JUST GOT SO MANY FEELS FROM THAT EPISODE. SO I WROTE THIS BITCH.**

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He wasn't thinking about anything but the game to tell you the truth. How he was actually playing, that his Dad, who he could barely relate to right now, got more excited than Stiles when he stepped onto the field. And then he was scoring goals, like actually scoring, and Lydia, of all people, was cheering him on. And then he felt a smile, an honest to god smile. The game was over, they had won, and no one was dead. Stiles had just glanced over to find Scott when the power cut out at the field.

And just like that, he knew, he fucking knew that something terrible was going to happen. That he thought too soon, that he thought they all survived. There was screaming and panic, but Stiles heard his dad call out his name. He tore off his helmet, ready to reply, when he felt strong hands close over his mouth.

He tried fighting, kicking, but it was no use. The feeling of someone else's hands wrapped at his mouth and throat as he was dragged from the field was too much. Drowning, he told himself. He felt like he was drowning.

And suddenly the hands were gone, only to be replaced by the utter darkness of some sort of hood. This, he decided, was worse than drowning. Blindness. Because even though he couldn't see didn't mean he couldn't hear. And even when he felt himself being shoved into what he assumed was a car, heard the engine roar to life, feel the tires speed away, he still heard his father's plea.

"_Where's my son?!"_

It echoed in his mind loudly, because even if it was Stiles being taken, it was his father who would have to deal with it. And Stiles, had this _feeling_, this sick feeling that this was it. He was going to die. He was the one Gerard planned to kill during the game, he was the one who had to fall so Scott would listen to the older man.

He wasn't afraid though, if anything he was _relieved_. All this constant worry of dying, or having to worry about protecting others would finally go away. He wouldn't have to fear death because it was already here. It was waiting for him.

Stiles didn't yell or scream when the vehicle stopped and someone pulled him out. He didn't kick or fight when he was pushed through his blindness through what felt like a house. And when the hood came off and he was face to face with Gerard Argent he didn't even offer the man a look of surprise. He was ready for this. For death.

Apparently though, Gerard didn't get this memo because he was ready to ask questions. The questions Scott refused to answer, and the ones that Stiles would have to tell him to stay alive. He actually started laughing when the first question left his mouth.

"Where is Derek Hale?" he snorted loudly, and the man shoved him to the ground only making Stiles laughter grow. Gerard crouched over Stiles, fisting his jersey in his hands, almost growling.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that buddy. I run with wolves remember?" Stiles taunted. Maybe if he antagonized him more his death would come sooner. That this old man would realize Stiles was no help to anyone, especially to Gerard.

He was rewarded with a right hook, and a forceful slam to the ground, making his head throb. "You think you're funny don't you Mr. Stilinski. It's who you are right? The funny one? The one to make jokes to try and calm everyone down? That's your role in all this, isn't it?"

"Well I'm sure no werewolf dude, in case you haven't noticed." He quipped. Another hit, he's pretty sure he heard a small crunching noise as soon as his fist collided with his cheek bone.

"You think you can talk your way out of this one? Make jokes until someone rescues you? Because I'll bet my hat it'll be quite the comedic stance when you're left alone and everyone forgets about you."

Stiles flinched, making the man's menacing grin grow.

"So that's what you fear." He declared. "You fear that no one will come, that they'll all realize how much they don't need a poor little human around. You should've known better than to side with creatures with more power than you. They're merciless and don't care for our kind. Even if you care for them, they'll never show it in return."

Stiles clenched his jaw, boring his eyes into Gerard's. All he saw was hate, disgust, a want for revenge. Gerard hated not only Derek, but werewolves themselves. He wanted to destroy them, get them off this planet. And that scared Stiles. If he didn't make it, fine, but knowing that Gerard, the Argents, would stop at nothing to murder his best friend made him physically ill.

"But that's not all you fear is it?" Gerard had continued. His grip managed to tighten at Stiles' shirt. "It's losing them in death."

"You don't know anything." His voice cracked just above a whisper.

Gerard chuckled just as a deafening howl pierced through their ears. Stiles panicked, he could feel his breath quicken as Gerard's smile grew darker.

"Ah yes, Derek's little pack. My granddaughter must be having great fun with them. They aren't even in the house and we can hear their pain. Isn't that something Stiles? When you can hear their pain? Their last breaths?"

No.

"You'd know all about that with your mother. Wouldn't you? Her dying words, what you saw when her eyes lost their life. What did she say to you? Right before she died? What was it?"

"Go to hell." He managed.

Gerard laughed again. "Only if you tell me where I can find Derek." He waited, Stiles swallowed, then Gerard sighed. "So be it."

His fist came down again, harder than the first two, right at Stiles' jaw. His eyes prickled with tears as he heard another howl, deranged filled with agony. He squirmed against Gerard's grip until he was met with another blow, this one right under his nose. He closed his eyes tightly as the punches continued each one hurting a bit more than the last.

When they stopped he opened his eyes, his left one already swelling. He didn't miss the glint of a knife against the lights in the room. This was it, he was finally going to die. He closed his eyes, his only wish being that he could've said 'I love you' one last time to his father.

He waited for the blow, the impact of the blade, but was met was a roar full of pure anger and rage. His eyes shot open in enough time to see and feel Gerard being pulled off him and thrown halfway across the room. To hear him thump against a wall and watch his body crumble to the ground.

He looked up at his savior, Derek Hale, of course who else would it be at this point?

"Dude you are like ten minutes too late." Stiles groaned. He tried to sit up but pain shot through him. "Fuck me." he moaned aloud.

He heard a distinct grunt and saw Derek kneel down beside him. His wolf features faded to human ones, his eyes returning to their green color.

"We need to get out of here." he said. Stiles thinks he nodded, but he can't be too sure. "If I help you up can you stand?" Derek asked. One of his hands cradled behind Stiles' skull.

"Yeah." He managed. Derek took Stiles' arm and wrapped it around his shoulder as lightly as possible, supporting him as they stood up. Stiles was a little wobbly, but the solid feel of the werewolf next to him helped him move his feet.

Derek half walked-half dragged Stiles out to his waiting car, setting him in the passenger seat. Before he could stop himself he opened the vanity mirror to get a look at the damage. Derek was in the front seat when Stiles huffed out a stunned breath. He looked like hell. He shut it quickly before he had to see any more of the nasty cuts and bruises that lined his face.

Derek gunned it, pulling out of the Argent's driveway quickly. He didn't have to ask where Derek was taking him because he already knew they had to save the rest of the pack.

"Thank you." Stiles told him. Derek looked over at him, then back at the road.

"I should've killed him. He deserved it."

"Well to be honest, he is an old dude, and you did like toss him into a wall like a rag doll, so I'd say he's pretty messed up." He said. He'd swear he saw Derek roll his eyes.

It was silent for a minute before Stiles spoke again. "How did you know?" he asked quietly.

Derek jerked his head to Stiles' in confusion.

"That Gerard had me, that he took me. How did you know? I didn't even call out for help." He clarified.

Derek's hand stiffened significantly around the steering wheel. "I don't know. I just felt it."

"Like with Scott?"

Derek paused as if debating his answer. "Something like that." It had been like when Scott was hurt, when he was dying. Derek had felt that, but this, with Stiles, it had felt so much stronger. It had hurt so much more when he felt Stiles getting hurt. He didn't understand why.

"Well either way, thanks. I'd totally be dead by now. Not that I'm usually safe or anything but, yeah, I don't know." Stiles shook his head, which actually hurt. Derek seemed to notice.

"There's advil in the glove box." He said. Stiles retrieved it quickly, taking a few to hopefully subside some of the pain.

"Why do you even have advil? Do werewolves even get headaches?" Stiles asked, trying to raise an eyebrow at Derek.

He scoffed. "Have you met humans Stiles? They're infuriating."

Stiles actually smiled a little at that one, because he had a point. He leaned back in the chair as they entered the woods. His heart picked up the closer they got and Derek's expression got more pained. Stiles knew that it must not be good. They got to the burnt out shell of the Hale house and Stiles reached for the door handle as soon as the car stopped.

"No. You stay here." Derek said. Stiles was about to protest but Derek continued. "I need you to drive them away alright? I can get them out but I need you to get them out of here. Bring them somewhere safe. To your house"

Derek slipped out of the car, and Stiles rushed to get out as well. "Wait! What about you?"

He stopped, turning to face Stiles. "I'll be fine. Just keep the pack safe. Please."

"I can do that." He said. "But you better show up at my place after I get them there."

Derek gave Stiles one of those looks again. Like the one after he just held Derek up for two hours in the pool, and the one after he made sure Isaac didn't attack him. He nodded, vanishing through the secret doorway to the tunnels.

Stiles sighed out loud. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. He wanted to hide under his covers until all of this supernatural crap ended. He wanted to go home and hug his father. He wanted to tell Scott that he was the best brother a dude could wish for. He wanted to thank Derek, not for tonight, but for all those other times he saved his ass.

He wanted to do all those things, and he found himself smiling, because not one of them was wanting to die.

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**BRB CRYING MYSELF INTO A COMA UNTIL NEXT MONDAY. THE SEASON FINALLY. JFC. OKAY BYE.**


End file.
